


need another perfect lie

by theformerone



Series: naruto femslash week 2018 [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Naruto Femslash Week 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 19:55:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15825855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theformerone/pseuds/theformerone
Summary: Himawari gets a promotion. Her moms aren't actually supposed to know about it. It's kind of classified.Day 2: Genin/Anbu





	need another perfect lie

The tortoise mask is cool in her hands, and Himawari can't stop touching it. It's beautiful, from the steady black eye slits to the decisive slashes of dark green that decorate it. She's worked for this. Has put in tireless hours grinding for it. The restrictions were still in place, sure. After the war, the age of entering the academy had been raised to fifteen and the graduation age raised to nineteen. She'd had to wait years longer than any other generation in recorded history. 

Her moms hadn't been hesitant, per say. But they weren't exactly supportive either. Himawari's generation was pretty small, and nobody wanted to see all of them hopping into the military. Because she was the Yamanaka heir (Inojin, the little brat had managed to escape that responsibility by being born second) she of course needed training. And it wasn't like her mother just _wasn't_ going to teach her the Jūken.

The combination of the Yamanaka Mind Body techniques and the Hyūga Gentle Fist made Himawari a holy terror by the time she was eleven. Which was agonizingly _slow_. She was the one that had to push her mothers into training her faster, sooner than her potential year-mates. Himawari didn't want to be behind. 

It wasn't that there was a war brewing. Peace looked like it was finally going to last longer than a handful of years at a time. But Himawari wanted it. She really _wanted_ it. The hat, that is. The Hachidaime Hokage, Yamanaka Himawari. It had such a nice ring to it. And Himawari knew she had to be an excellent statesman and a battlefield menace to get there. Her Hyūga upbringing with her mother had settled the statecraft questions, and her insistence on battle training took care of the rest. 

Now she was twenty-three (late by her own standards) and she _finally_ had it. Her ANBU mask. Another thing conquered on her way to her dream. Sure, Sarada had managed it, too, but Himawari was content to believe that was mostly because there was no active duty Sharingan on the ANBU roster. She was filling a gap. Himawari was there because she was _good_. Yeah, it was a petty thought, and one that her mama wouldn't be proud of, but her mom? Her mom would think it was _hilarious_. 

She runs her fingers over the heavy porcelain, a half smile stuck on her face. She's still a little in awe. The Nanadaime had sworn her in, alongside the current ANBU Commander, Squirrel. It had been easier than she expected, to stifle her joy in front of her Naruto-jiji. Squirrel had been that much easier; the woman was a slave driver, and she'd put Himawari through a year and a half of hell after Moegi-sensei had submitted her name for a promotion. 

Himawari tucks the mask away into a sealing scroll marked 'Mugwort - Bile excretions'. No one other than a Yamanaka would pry there, and even then, she hadn't labeled what _kind_ of mugwort was inside. That'd be sure to keep even the more curious at bay. Every Yamanaka new better than to poke around in flowers they didn't have all the information about.

The run home is quick and silent. Rooftops bleed by in swaths of red and brown tile and thatching. At the edges of her senses, Himawari can feel the other new ANBU heading home or joining the dead hours rotation. She was up the following night. She only had half shifts for now, to ease the transition from tokubetsu jounin to ANBU. 

Besides, it'd give her enough time to tell her moms her new cover story. The thought made Himawari's heart race; she finally had a decent cover story to tell her moms! No more half truths and or bluffs. Now she had decent full blown lies to tell. Or if not lies, then dates and approximate locations. Her moms were her next of kin, so they'd be the ones to tell. 

It's absurd, how excited she is about lying to her parents. But she's a shinobi. You don't _get_ to lie to your parents. There's no _point_. You never get away with it. But now! Himawari could! And she was going to!

She lands narrowly on the roof of the jounin barracks. She slips down the fire escape, nimble and quiet as the other hundred or so active duty jounin currently occupying the place. 

She isn't surprised when she comes inside and Inojin is sitting on her couch, flipping through a comic book. Himawari dumps her keys in the dish by the door and takes off her sandals. 

"You're lucky I let the wards let you in," she grouches, eyes narrowed. 

Inojin huffs from his place on the couch. 

"Like they could keep me out even if they wanted to."

He's got a point, even though Himawari hates to say it. He had managed to snag a dual apprenticeship with Sai and Tenten while he was still in the academy, which meant he was on track to becoming a fuinjutsu expert before he turned sixteen. Inojin was the one who designed the wards Himawari kept on her front door, and the ones currently marking up the Yamanaka compound _and_ the flower shop. 

"One day," she says, padding into the sitting room, "you're going to scare me half to death."

Inojin huffs but he allows it when Himawari draws him into a tight hug. He drops his comic to hug her back, and gives her a tight squeeze. 

"I couldn't stop them," he whispers. 

Himawari stills immediately, and fears for the worst. It was a loaded statement. A terrible one to tell a shinobi. But Himawari is still armed. Though she isn't in her ANBU uniform and the short sword included, she's plenty deadly with only her fists. Her mothers had taken care of that pretty early on. 

"How many?" she breathes. 

"Just two."

She pulls away from him, but leaves one hand heavy on his shoulder. 

" _Stay put,_ " she says, voice low and fierce. "Run if you can. I'll take care of it."

She doesn't bother waiting for an answer. Inojin nods toward the kitchen and Himawari's pale eyes narrow at it. She doesn't activate her Byakugan, doesn't see the point. There isn't enough space in the kitchen for a full rotation. Simple taijutsu would be best to start out. No need in causing more collateral damage than her landlord would allow. 

Besides, her baby brother was in the living room. She didn't want to send a combatant sprawling into him. 

She draws a kunai from either holster on her hip, and walks steady. She's grateful she knows her apartment as well as she does; she glides along the places where the wood doesn't creak, easily avoids the places where it groans. 

When she enters the kitchen, she lets off a small wave of killing intent. Her lip is curled. Who was fool enough to try to trap one Yamanaka in the other's home? Inojin had probably tripped the wards when he came in after training; he often did, just to spend a little time with her before he headed back home. But someone had been waiting. Someone who wanted to use him against Himawari. 

Not today. 

She takes a half step into the kitchen, her pale eyes peeled, every muscle in her body taut with the fierce urge to protect. Then, the lights come on. 

"Congratulations!!"

There's a spray of confetti and the sound of noise makers going off. Himawari jerks her head back and damn near drops her weapons. Her moms are in her kitchen. Hinata holding a cake, and Ino with a big bouquet of flowers in hand. Ino blows incessantly on the noise maker, her free hand throwing more handfuls of confetti into Himawari's face. 

"What?" Himawari splutters. 

"You know," Ino says, giving a grand wink. "For all of your _hard work_."

Himawari turns her head, slack-jawed to where Inojin is gliding into the kitchen. 

"You knew about this?" she asks. 

He shrugs and starts rooting around her kitchen for dessert plates and forks. 

"Yeah," he replies. "They overpowered me. Two to one. Bad odds."

Ino hip checks him, a little smile on her face as she does before she dumps the flowers into Himawari's arms and deposits a kiss on her cheek. 

"Your mom's not the head of T&I for nothing, squirt," she says, winking again. She turns in a flurry of orchid perfume, the kind that reminds Himawari of home, before she's helping Inojin set the table. 

Hinata deposits it in the middle of the table for her son and her wife to take care of. Then, she wipes her hands gently on the apron she's wearing and walks forward. She wraps Himawari up in a tight hug, and it's one that Himawari can't help but return. 

"You - ?"

"Your mom wanted a celebration," Hinata whispers. "And I think you ought to have one, too."

"But - ,"

"It's a cinnamon roll cake."

Himawari gives her mother a massive squeeze. Hinata laughs and presses a kiss to her cheek. All this time she's spent cultivating this fearsome, deadly persona, all rendered useless by cinnamon roll cake. And her moms. Who apparently know everything. 

"I was going to hurt you," she says, pulling back from her mama, and feeling sheepish. 

Hinata cocks an eyebrow at her, the one that reminds Himawari that her mother survived a war. That she's more than the housewife she chose to become when she was pregnant with Himawari, and then again with Inojin. 

"Good instincts," she replies, a wry quirk to her lips. "But you couldn't have."

Himawari's hackles raise at the challenge, but Hinata only laughs. 

"You're more like your mother every day," she says. "Now let me put these in some water."

She takes the flowers (already cut and ready for a vase) from Himawari and gives her a gentle push toward the table. Himawari sits and watches her mom and her little brother bicker about whether Inojin's old enough for the sweet plum wine they brought for the celebration. 

"I'm gonna be a genin in like, two years,” he insists, "I'm of _age_."

"The only people who remind adults they're of age are _kids_ who _shouldn't_ drink."

Hinata joins shortly thereafter, bypassing their argument entirely to pour Himawari and herself a glass. Himawari hides her laugh behind the rim of her glass while her mama raises hers to a toast. 

"To Himawari," Hinata says, smiling gently, "on your special day." 

"Yeah," Inojin drawls, "congratulations on becoming a woman."

It earns him a pinch on the cheek from Ino, who raises the bottle of plum wine in salute. 

"To Himawari," Ino agrees. 

They drink, and they eat, and Himawari is painfully aware that she will never, _ever_ be able to keep a secret from her family. Though to be honest, she doesn't really mind.


End file.
